"All your followers are dead, so what are you still doing here?"
Liu Zheng curled his lips as he spoke.
This guy isn't just here to make up the numbers, right?
A lightbulb went off in his head.
If that were the case, Liu Zheng wasn't so worried.
The entity behind him clearly held a much higher status than that of a rural, native Evil God.
And even if the Gospel was ineffective, he still had the Golden Star Tank Medal.
Liu Zheng touched the pentagram on his chest, firm to the touch but not cold.
However, that blood-red moonlight had no intention of shining on him.
Soon, thick blood began to ooze from the neck of the Headless Angel, flowing down its shoulders and arms, all the way onto the bottle, making it seem as though it was flowing out from the bottle itself.
The blood, glowing amber under the moonlight, dripped into Dickens's mouth, resembling a mother feeding her child milk.
